


a collision, of sorts

by devil divine (jaegerjagues)



Category: Time After Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, caprisun, i didn't mean to do this but it happened, listen, quickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 03:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10376907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegerjagues/pseuds/devil%20divine
Summary: The little pouch of juice is only the most recent of his adversaries in modern times.OR,I couldn't stop myself and here it is, a quickfic based off ofthis post.





	

 

The pouch is what catches his eye first.

There are jugs and cartons on the shelves in the refrigeration unit, storage containers filled with food, other jars and receptacles with titles like _Heinz Tomato Ketchup_ and _sriracha_. Clear and colorful with precise labels.

It is a marvel, really. Perhaps in some downtime, he'll have time to observe them farther—while looking for Dr. Stevenson, of course.

But first, his medicine.

The pouch, as he discovers when he removes it from the unit, is squishy. There is a drinking straw attached to the back, separately packaged in a thin layer of plastic. The bottom, as he turns and tilts it, curious, is clear, liquid inside a murky salmon.

 _CapriSun_ , it reads boldly on the front. There are caricatures beneath it, smiles on their faces as they stand on some kind boat that lacks sides. Above them,  _fruit punch._

But it doesn't look like any fruit punch he's consumed before.

This _is_ the future, though; it's his scientific duty to discover everything he can before he has to go back.

* * *

It seems simple.

But in the future, simplicity seems to be a dupe.

He tries it gently at first, positioning the sharp end of the straw just over the circular indent. The pouch bends with the pressure, but the opening does not give.

With a frown, Wells repositions the straw. It's a bit like threading a needle, he thinks, or maybe a bit more like the first push of the needle through fabric, creating dozens of smaller holes in order to mend a larger one.

The second attempt goes about as well as the first, the material around the hole bending with the force he's exerting.

He will not admit defeat; the third time still _must_ be a charm this far into the future.

It's a matter of adding more pressure than he used the fist two times around, of angling the straw just the right amount.

He can hardly keep the noise he makes in victory contained.

The contents of the pouch taste nothing like fruit punch; the flavor is many things, a curious assortment of sharp and tangy and just toeing the line of too sweet. But it does it's job.

Despite the taste, Wells finds that he cannot stop sucking down on the straw, reversing the air flow for a moment just to feel the pouch reflate in his hands.

There are better things he could be doing: tracking down Dr. Stevenson, putting an end to Jack the Ripper's assault on the 21st century, getting back to his own time and starting on the illustrious writing career he's to have.

He should go and see what's taking Jane so long.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](bobodelrey.tumblr.com), where i will cry about time after time and an assortment of other time travel shows.


End file.
